There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire it is hardly a passion but a blight bred in the cloudy damp despondency of uneasy egoism.
More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will...
What we used to say was whoever had the bow tie got to lead the band. There...
I don't mind a dirty girl. But what I find tragic is when we as women become not the subject of our own story but someone else's object.
